


Check This Off Your List

by sneetchstar



Series: Arya x Gendry Week 2020 [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, One Night Stands, Shameless Smut, Smut, axg week 2020, very nearly porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneetchstar/pseuds/sneetchstar
Summary: Young widow Arya goes out with a very clear goal in mind.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: Arya x Gendry Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862086
Comments: 32
Kudos: 223





	Check This Off Your List

Arya sits at the bar, sipping her drink and idly drumming the fingers of her left hand on the bar top. So far, the evening has been rather disappointing. The only attention she’s gotten has been a rather high-class blond man named Ned. He was handsome enough and seemed pleasant, but kind of boring and soft. Not really her type. And even if he had been her type, there was no way she would be able to get intimate with a guy who has the same name as her father. Too weird.

She has just decided to try a different pub after she finishes this drink when she feels the motion of a person plunking down on the stool beside her. He’s a hulking sort, but she doesn’t shrink away to give him more room. Fuck that. She’s not going to give him an opportunity to manspread in her vicinity, no matter how much bigger he is than her.

He orders a drink, and chats long enough with the grizzled but soft-spoken bartender that it becomes clear that they know each other well. When the bartender walks away to wait on other customers, he falls silent.

They sit side by side, drinking in silence for several minutes, before something compels him to speak.

“Recently divorced?” he asks.

She turns and looks at him. “Are you talking to me?” she asks, quickly lifting her drink to her lips to hide the surprise on her face. This man is gorgeous. The most beautiful male specimen she has ever seen.

“Yeah,” he says. He shifts his right hand across the top of the bar and points at the indentation in her left hand’s ring finger with his pinky. “Dent. Recently divorced or out to get revenge on a cheating husband by having a little fun of your own?” he asks.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Neither,” she answers. “My husband died four months ago.”

His eyes widen in shock. “Oh! Oh, um, I’m so—”

She holds her hand up. “Save it. The marriage was arranged by our families. I’m not exactly in mourning.”

His expression clouds. “Oh, a rich girl, eh?”

She scowls at him and turns away. “I can’t help who my parents are any more than you can. But people are trying to get that antiquated _fucking_ practice banned so people like me won’t have to become victims to it anymore,” she snarls. “A few more Lannisters just need to die to get it to pass.”

“You’re right. It’s not my business. I’m sorry,” he says, and she sighs.

“Look, here’s the thing,” she says, turning to look straight at him once more, deciding to lay her cards on the table because he is _fit_ and she doesn’t feel like playing games. “I’m in town on business, and I’m going home tomorrow. I’m here, in this bar, looking for someone who can fuck me and fuck me _good_ , because I never have been.” He swallows hard as she angles her head at him. “Are you up for that task? Because if you’re not, you can piss off right now.”

“You never had sex with your husband?”

“That’s not what I said.”

He looks at her for a second, then seems to make a decision. “Right,” he nods. He tosses his beer back, downing the second half of it in one go. Then he stands and offers his hand. “Lead the way.”

She turns on her stool, intrigued. There was something undeniably sexy about the way he downed that beer, and she’s not sure why it turned her on. Still, she has a goal in mind tonight, and she won’t waver. He’s gorgeous and willing, but she needs to be safe. “Just so you know, I trained for several years at the House of Black and White in Braavos and could severely incapacitate you without breaking a sweat. So if you’re a murderer, I’m not going to go down easily.”

His eyes grow gradually wider as she speaks, and when she’s done, he simply says, “Okay.” His voice is a little less confident than before, and even breaks mid-syllable.

His horrified expression and timid reply are all the confirmation she needs that he’s not a creep. But there is one more piece of information she still needs. She tilts her head at him and asks, “How’s your tongue game?”

He pauses, trying to decide the best way to answer. Then he takes her face between his hands, slowly leans down, then pauses for two seconds to give her the opportunity to refuse (or incapacitate) him. When she doesn’t, he gives her a deep, probing kiss, his tongue sensuously snaking against hers.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he rumbles as he withdraws from her.

Arya’s eyes take a few seconds to open again, and when they do, she feels a little dazed. It was a really good kiss.

She recovers a moment later and lauds herself on having the presence of mind to ask, “You’re single?”

“Of course I am,” he answers, scowling. “I’m not like that.”

“Had to check,” she says. “I’m not out here to be a homewrecker.”

“Understood. I promise you I am very single,” he says.

“Okay then,” she exhales. She stands without the aid of his offered hand and begins walking towards the door, assuming he is following.

“What’s your name?” he asks once they are outside.

“No One,” she answers, her eyes trained on the traffic, waiting for it to clear so they can cross to her hotel.

“Fair enough,” he replies. “I assume you don’t want mine then either?”

“Nope,” she answers, grabbing his hand and pulling him along behind her as she runs across the street.

“I don’t have any diseases,” he volunteers just before they enter the hotel.

“Good. You’re still gonna wear a condom.” She’s been on birth control for years – had an IUD put in without her late husband’s knowledge, because the last thing she wanted was a child with him – but this guy still could be lying about being clean.

“Of course,” he immediately agrees.

_Maybe he is telling the truth._

She strides ahead of him, putting a little extra swing in her step just because. She presses the button, and when she turns to look at him again she gets the satisfaction of seeing his eyes jump from just below her waist back to her face.

“You’re very pretty,” she says.

He barks a laugh, caught off guard. “That’s new,” he replies. His smile fades but his expression remains soft when he says, “You are…”

“Unique,” she supplies, stepping into the lift. “Unconventionally pretty. Or were you going to say I ‘have character’? I get that one a lot, too.”

“I was going to say you are gorgeous, actually,” he says, watching as she presses the button for her floor. “I only paused because I was trying to decide if ‘magnificent’ was too much.”

“First: I know I’m not gorgeous, but I appreciate your effort and enthusiasm. Second: yes, ‘magnificent’ would definitely have been too much,” she says.

He walks towards her, crowding her against the wall of the elevator. “You are most definitely gorgeous,” he says, his voice that low rumble again. Then he leans down and captures her lips once more in a searing kiss.

She pushes upward, pressing back into the kiss this time. The taste he gave her in the bar wasn’t enough and she had been waiting for her next opportunity to give back as good as he gave.

When she slides her hand down, cupping the bulge in the front of his jeans, he startles, reflexively pulling away.

“Want to see what you’re working with here,” she explains, more firmly pressing her small hand against him, then rubbing up and down. She can tell he absolutely has something worthwhile in there. The lift dings and the doors open. She pushes past him and out the doors.

He hangs back a second, his finger on the Door Open button. “Does m’lady approve?” he asks. He has a feeling he does, but he also knows that if she says so, he’ll be riding the elevator back down alone.

“I do,” she answers. “And don’t call me that.”

He chuckles and steps out of the elevator.

xXx

“Was your husband abusive?” he asks as she unlocks her door.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” she asks, opening the door a little but not going inside.

“I’m sorry!” he immediately apologizes, holding up his hands. “Honestly. I just want to make sure that this is… I don’t know… a healthy thing. For you.”

Her scowl fades, but she still stares at him really hard for a few more seconds, studying his face. “You’re serious. Like, you’re actually concerned about this,” she finally says.

“Well, yeah,” he answers. “Was it bad? You seem like you didn’t want to be married to him, so…” he half shrugs.

“He didn’t abuse me or cheat on me or anything like that. I didn’t love him and I don’t think I ever would have. He knew that,” she says. He opens his mouth, but she holds her hand up. “I’m not talking about this anymore.”

He nods. “Okay. I’ll respect your wishes,” he says.

She finally pushes the door all the way open and steps inside. He follows her into the dimly-lit room, looking around for just a second.

It’s a fairly standard hotel room. Sparse, utilitarian furniture, television, window with ugly curtains, and a king-sized bed dominating one wall. She wonders if he’s disappointed that the “rich girl” didn’t spring for a posh suite.

And now that they are alone and in her room she hesitates for just a moment.

“If you want to change your mi—”

She cuts off his words with her lips on his, pushing him back against the desk. He bumps into it, causing the lamp to wobble. His hands reflexively land on her hips before he wraps one arm around her waist, pulling her closer. He finds himself spreading his feet apart, trying to sink lower to save straining both their necks.

“Fuck, you’re small,” he mutters, pulling away for a second to spin them and set her on top of the desk, bringing her a little higher. “Better.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, fisting the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. He moves, crowding into her space, nudging his way in between her knees until he is very nearly pressed against her.

“You’re… delicious…” he grunts out between kisses, moving from her lips to her neck.

“Stupid,” she whisper-laughs, her fingers raking through his hair. He moans against her neck and she wraps her legs around him, closing the last inch of space that was between them. She can feel the bulge of his cock against her center and deliberately flexes her hips against it.

“Fuck,” he curses, his hands running down her back, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the hem of her shirt.

He finds it and pulls it up, sliding his hands underneath, his fingers splayed wide on her skin.

“Wait,” she says, pushing him just enough so she can remove her shirt. She keeps her legs around his waist.

His eyes darken as they rake over the expanse of skin revealed to him, and he traces the edges of her black bra with his fingertips. “Beautiful,” he mutters, leaning back into her, claiming her lips once more.

She pushes him away again and yanks at his shirt. “Keep up,” she commands.

“Your wish is my command,” he replies, quickly reaching behind his neck to pull his shirt off by the collar.

She hums in appreciation at his well-muscled torso, her hands wasting no time in exploring the curves and ridges of him. “Unh, you’re well fit,” she says, leaning forward to suck a wet kiss on his neck.

“Bed,” he grunts, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her from the desk. He turns and crosses the short distance to the large bed, then drops down to sit on it.

He slides his hands over her skin once more, their destination the clasp on the back of her bra. He unhooks it with ease and immediately moves his hands to the front, under her opened bra to cup her breasts with his hands.

She leans back again and squirms the garment off of her arms, tossing it aside, and he takes advantage, leaning forward to lick and kiss her breasts, lightly tugging the nipples with his lips and tongue.

Her hands make their way to his waist, where they briefly struggle with his belt before succeeding in opening it, followed by his jeans. She starts to slide her hand inside and he stops her.

“Not yet. This is about you,” he says, his voice low and gruff now.

Arya bites her lower lip, her fingers still hovering at his waist. “Okay,” she whispers.

A second later she yelps in surprise as she is flipped onto her back.

“Sorry,” he apologizes.

“No, it’s okay, I was just surprised. I… I don’t mind you manhandling me a bit,” she tells him. “It’s something else I’ve always wanted but never got.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “All right then,” he decisively says before dropping his head to kiss her stomach. Then he opens her jeans and begins tugging them down her legs.

“Shoes,” she reminds him. He swears again then moves to her feet, where he quickly yanks her shoes and socks off. His jeans are open and hanging, so he quickly shucks them along with his own shoes and socks, then returns to peel her jeans the rest of the way off.

“Keep up,” he says, giving her a haughty look. She laughs, and it’s so loud and joyful that he can’t help joining her. “You have a great laugh,” he says, his eyes crinkling as he looks down at her.

Her smile turns shy and she bites her lower lip again.

“Gods, you are so fucking sexy,” he murmurs, then leans down and coaxes that bottom lip out of her mouth with his lips. He continues just kissing her for a few indulgent minutes, settling over her on the bed, slowly pressing his groin into her until she moans into his mouth.

He moves then, kissing a trail down her body, and Arya finds she is having trouble keeping still. She’s never felt like this before; never had a man make her feel like she was on fire from the inside out in the best way possible.

He reaches her waist and drags his lips over her stomach, his tongue dipping into her bellybutton, before finding the edge of her panties. He travels lower then, tugging her with him so he can kneel on the floor at the end of the bed. He nudges back in between her thighs, nuzzling the silken skin there before tracing the lower edge of her underwear, at the crease where her thigh meets her body, with his tongue.

She moans, writhing a little. He fleetingly mouths over her center, over the already-damp fabric of her panties.

“Just take them off already,” she says, nearly whining now. She moves her hands to remove them herself, but he takes them and gently sets them aside.

“My job,” he replies, placing his palms flat on the fronts of her thighs, sliding them up to her body, then farther up, over her breasts, where his rough palms skate across her taut nipples as he reverses direction to drag his hands back down. This time he catches the elastic in his fingers and pulls down, fully revealing her to him.

“You ready?” he asks.

Arya lifts her head. “Are you serious right now?”

“Just making sure, m’lady,” he answers, then returns to his previous location, only this time his kisses are wetter, more biting, and more deliberate.

Arya is pretty sure she’s going to have at least one hickey on her inner thigh. But before she can contemplate that, his tongue swipes through her folds and she cries out.

“Fuck!”

He doesn’t move away. She feels him chuckle against her, which is another completely new feeling. His tongue sweeps through again, and she moans and squirms under him.

He brings an arm up over his head, throwing it across her hips to hold her steady. He circles her clit with his tongue and her body automatically moves again, or tries to, but his hold on her is quite solid.

Somehow the fact that he’s holding her in place – and so easily – turns her on even more.

“Keep still,” he growls, nips the tender skin of her inner thigh, then returns to his task.

“Easier said than – oh, _fuck_ – done,” she gasps, her fingers clutching the bedclothes. “Ohmygods.”

Arya feels like her body is falling and flying at the same time. She has no experience with this, but it certainly seems like he does. His tongue is in turns soft and firm, sweeping and circling, lapping and flicking, and each motion feels like it’s exactly what she needs at that moment. It’s as if he knows exactly what will make her body soar.

Then he slides what feels like two fingers into her and she groans loudly, ready to jump out of her skin it feels so good. He slides them in and out, the pads of his fingertips finding a spot she apparently has never found herself, adding another layer of pleasure.

It’s too much. Almost.

She releases the blankets and her hands find their way to her breasts, squeezing, her thumbs rubbing over her stiff nipples.

He circles her clit with his tongue a few more times, then sucks on it, smoothing his tongue over it, his fingers still pumping in and out.

Arya is gasping, and her body is trembling as the sensations build and build before bursting, spreading from her center outwards, causing her to hoarsely cry out as her body bucks and her legs try to close.

“Stop stop oh fuck stop too much,” she babbles, trying to squirm away.

Thankfully, he obeys, easing away once she relaxes her thighs enough for him to do so. He places a few more tender kisses to her thigh, then stomach, before sucking her juices off of his fingers.

He climbs back onto the bed and prowls over her body, his eyes never leaving hers. “You're delicious,” he repeats before dropping his lips to hers. “I knew you would be.”

“How… did you know… that?” she asks between kisses. He seems to really like kissing her, and she can’t see any reason to complain about it. He’s very good at it.

“I just knew,” he simply answers, shrugging lightly. He stares down at her for a moment. “You really are gorgeous,” he says. “I definitely was not just saying that. And you look even more gorgeous now, all flushed and sated, with your hair splayed out on the pillow.” He reaches up with one hand to run his fingers through her hair.

“I…” she starts and stops, not even knowing how to respond to his words. “No one has ever said anything like that to me before.”

He leans down and kisses her with a tenderness that could be extremely dangerous and says, “I officially hate your dead husband.”

Arya presses her lips together for a second, then bursts out laughing. “You are certainly something…”

“Gendry,” he says. “My name is Gendry.” He kisses her again, then trails his lips over to her ear, where he murmurs, “I’m telling you because I want to hear you screaming it.”

“Fuck…” she exhales, her hand automatically coming up to cradle the back of his head, her fingers threading into the cool, smooth strands.

His hips grind against her as he kisses her neck, and she suddenly remembers he still has his boxer briefs on.

“You’re not naked yet,” she says.

“All things in time,” he replies, seemingly unbothered,

He drags his tongue along her collarbone, then down her sternum between her breasts. He kisses his way towards one nipple, circling it a few times with his tongue before lightly biting it. Then he softly laves it with his tongue again before moving to give her other breast similar treatment.

Arya slides her hands down his body until she reaches the waistband of his boxers. She pushes at them, but her arms aren’t long enough and can only move them a little. “Off,” she says.

“As m’lady commands,” he replies, moving away for a second to peel off his boxers.

“Stop that,” she says, but she sounds more amused than annoyed now.

“You like it,” he counters, moving to climb over her again, but she stops him.

“I want to be on top,” she says.

“Mmm, yes please,” he agrees, rolling them so she is over him now.

“Wait,” she whispers, climbing off of him.

“Hmm? Is everything all—oh. Right.” He watches as she digs a box of condoms out of a plastic bag from a nearby pharmacy. She takes one out and sets it on the bed before straddling him again.

“Almost forgot,” she says, then leans down over him. She kisses him for a time, her small body pressed against his. He runs his hands up and down her back from her shoulders to her ass, up and down, up and down, finally coming to rest on her ass, where he lightly squeezes her firm, rounded cheeks.

She sits up a moment later and looks down at him, scooting back a little to get a _good_ look at _all_ of him. “Nice,” she whispers, running a single finger over his shaft. He shudders, and she does it again.

He’s big, which she expected. He’s bigger than her late husband in every way. She thinks about taking him in her mouth – another thing she has never done before – but remembers his words from earlier.

This is about her. She’s never been allowed to be selfish before. He seems more than content to do nothing but please her. She doesn’t know when she’ll get an opportunity like this again.

So Arya Stark decides to take advantage of her situation and indulges herself.

She toys with his cock a little longer, watching the way his muscles tense and his face scrunches and scowls as he tries to control himself. It’s rather adorable, but she knows the longer she teases him, the shorter he’ll last once he’s inside her.

And she definitely wants him inside her.

“Oh, I definitely want that, too,” Gendry says, and her eyes widen. “Yes, you said that out loud,” he tells her with a laugh, then gently pulls her down for a kiss. “You are entirely too fascinating,” he whispers against her lips, effectively erasing any embarrassment she might have felt.

She gropes for the condom. When she finds it, she eases away from him again to open it. Once she has it open, she stares at it for a moment, realizing she’s never actually used one before. But she quickly decides she can most certainly figure out how this works, and successfully rolls it over his very nice, very erect cock.

He slides his hands up her sides, skimming over her skin, up her ribs and back down to her hips, where he grasps her as she lifts up and positions herself over him. Her small hand wraps around his shaft and slots him into place. As she lowers herself down onto him, he groans, his eyes rolling back before closing.

Arya’s mouth drops open and her head falls back, her hands bracing on his chest. She feels so full already and she’s not even all the way down yet. “Ohhhh…” she moans, her fingers digging into his skin. “So good,” she finally sighs, fully seated on him now. She bites her lip, trying not to comment on his size, not wanting to stroke his ego. He’s already smug enough; she doesn’t need to encourage him.

She starts moving, rolling her hips as she slides up and down on him. His hands move from her hips to her back, pulling her face down to his like he _needs_ to kiss her.

“So full… I’ve never felt so full before…” The words fall from her lips between kisses, despite her earlier intentions. But when he thrusts up into her with more force, she decides that she was wrong. She does want to encourage him.

“You feel amazing,” he says, his hands covering her breasts now, thumbs toying with her nipples.

“You’re so much bigger,” she finally tells him. “I didn’t think you’d fit.”

“I believed in you,” he grunts out.

She laughs, then cries out in surprise when he not only meets her movements harder still but also moves his hand down to draw circles around her clit. “Fuck,” she gasps.

The pleasure is building like she’s never felt before, faster and more intensely than she’s ever felt, and knows it is the combination of everything he is doing to her that is making her feel this way. Words and coherent thought are nowhere to be found, all she knows is the man beneath her and how he is making her feel.

And he’s making her feel like no one ever has before. Her late husband thought he was pleasing her, but that was largely because she made him think so just to get it over with.

With Gendry, she thinks she could do this _forever_.

She feels warm all over, pleasantly warm, a tingly sort of warm that seems like it is made of pure pleasure. It is centered where they are joined, where his cock is perfectly filling her and his thumb is moving on her clit just _right_ and spreads all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. She almost thinks she can feel it in her hair, it’s so sweet and so intense.

“Oh yes,” she pants, her head drooping, forehead against his, “don’t stop… don’t ever stop…”

“You are amazing,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft and so beautiful she can almost feel it like yet another caress on her. “So beautiful… I could touch you like this forever… live inside you…”

“Oh! Gendry… Oh, yes, Gendry…” Her bliss finally grows too big to be contained in her body and bursts out of her in the most intense orgasm she’s ever had before. “Gods…”

She slumps over him, and he slowly withdraws his hand from between them to firmly grasp her hips. “Hang on, Beautiful,” he growls, and her body automatically obeys, her hands coming up to cling to his neck as he flips them over. “Don’t let go,” he commands just as she begins to loosen her grasp on his neck.

“Okay,” she absently answers, then discovers why when he begins to pound into her at a furious, almost punishing pace. “Oh!” she cries out, knees instinctively raising to bracket his hips. “Fuck!”

Gendry braces his weight on one hand, the other reaching for her breast, never slowing his pace. “Look at me,” he says, nudging her nose with his.

Once again, Arya blindly obeys, her wide gray eyes opening to look up at him. The intensity she sees there takes her breath away and she almost feels like she could come yet again, but then he thrusts in deep and hard with a deep, grunting groan. It’s the sexiest sound she’s ever heard. He stills, every muscle taut, and she can feel his cock pulsing its release within her. A few moments later, he relaxes over her, and only then do his eyes flutter closed.

His head falls onto her shoulder, face pressed into her neck. He presses a soft, wet kiss there, then eases himself off of her, rolling to the side, staring at the ceiling. His fingers creep to the side and find hers, but they just rest atop hers, not grasping. Wanting contact but making no demands.

As her heart rate slows back to normal, she allows herself to contemplate her former existence compared to this new world suddenly open to her. He wanted to know what _she_ wanted. He let her take the lead. He _cared_ about how she was feeling. She didn’t have to fake an orgasm and then go off to the bathroom and rub herself to frustrated completion.

Her mind is spinning too much, so she decides a quick trip to the bathroom might help clear her head. She turns her hand under his and gives it a squeeze before slipping out of the bed. “I’ll be right back,” she says.

“Should I…?”

“You don’t need to leave yet,” she answers over her shoulder, anticipating his question. If she is honest, she’s hoping for another round with him, but she doesn’t want to be greedy. He already gave her the two best orgasms of her life.

She leans her hands on the bathroom counter and takes a deep breath. “Get it together, Stark,” she mutters. “This is supposed to be a one-time fling. Just ignore the fact that he is infuriatingly handsome and sweet and really seems to be into you.”

She splashes some water on her face, uses the toilet, washes her hands, and steels herself to return to the bed.

He’s lying there like the sculpture of some sort of Braavosi god, the sheet haphazardly draped low over his abdomen. He looks absolutely perfect.

 _Why didn’t you tell him to go home when you were in the bathroom?_ she thinks as she tries not to look as self-conscious as she feels walking through the hotel room naked. The way his eyes appreciatively rove over her as she approaches helps a bit.

She slips into the bed beside him, and it’s suddenly awkward and quiet. “Why are you single?” she blurts after a minute.

He snorts. “You won’t tell me anything about yourself, and I’m supposed to tell you about me?” he counters.

That gives her pause. “Fair enough,” she allows.

Clearly he wasn’t expecting her to give up so easily. “I can be an asshole,” he says. “And I don’t suffer fools gladly. Or politely.”

Now Arya snorts, but it’s a snort of laughter. “At least you’re self-aware,” she chuckles.

They fall into another silence, each trying to decide how to proceed from here. Just as Arya begins debating between asking for another round of sex and asking him to leave, Gendry speaks.

“Anything else you want to try?” he suddenly asks. He drops his head to the side and looks over at her.

She makes a similar motion, flopping her head sideways to look at him, eyes wide. He looks so beautiful she momentarily forgets what he asked. “What?”

“Is there anything else you’ve always wanted to do? Like, sexually?”

“Really?” she softly asks.

“Really. It’s still relatively early and I’ve still got one more in me. Actually, you’re sexy as fuck, so maybe more than one. Who knows?”

She keeps staring at him. “I’m sexy as fuck?” She vaguely remembers him saying it before, but she had chalked that up to passion and most of his blood flow not being in his brain at the time.

“Have you not seen yourself, or…?” he asks, obviously confused about why she might have such a low opinion of her appeal.

Little does he know that she could make him a list of reasons.

Instead of answering him, she leans over and fiercely kisses him. “I’ve never been taken from behind,” she whispers against his lips. She didn’t think she’d be able to say it while looking into those criminally blue eyes of his.

“Mmm, I can definitely accommodate that wish,” he replies, leaning back slightly to grin at her.

“Okay,” she says, looking at him with her lower lip caught between her teeth again.

He lowers his head to kiss her once more, than pauses and draws back a little. “Wait, do you mean, like, doggy style, or…” he asks, wanting to make sure he was properly interpreting her request.

“No! I mean yes!” she exclaims, laughing in surprise. “Definitely doggy style. I’m not ready for _that_ sort of adventure. Hells, tonight was the first time I ever even got to be on top…”

He exhales, sounding relieved. “Okay, I thought so. I just wanted to make sure I was going to give you what you wanted.”

She smiles, and as she looks up into his eyes, still so incredibly _blue_ , even in the dim light, she realizes she could very easily fall and fall hard for this guy.

If she let herself. But this is not the time.

He lowers his head again and begins kissing down her neck, finding all the sensitive places he discovered earlier and making sure to give them special attention.

“Have you ever done that before?” she asks in a breathy voice, unable to stop her insatiably curious brain.

“In the butt? No,” he answers, licking around her nipple with a pointed tongue until it is stiffened to his satisfaction. Then he lightly bites it before sucking it into his mouth. “But I was willing to try it if that’s what you wanted,” he murmurs against the skin of her chest as he travels across to her other breast.

“Why?” she asks and now her brain is going _shut up shut up shut up._

He lifts his head. “I already told you. Because you’re sexy as fuck. And I like you,” he answers in a very reasonable voice before resuming his path, now kissing down her ribs.

“Oh,” she dumbly answers, stopping herself from admitting she likes him too. She does, but if she acknowledges it aloud, then it will make this too real and then she’ll wind up telling him her name and everything else she promised she wouldn’t do this night.

And he isn’t making her growing conflict any easier with the way his lips and tongue are just _worshipping_ her body right now. Not to mention the fact that he has a way of making her feel beautiful and special and like there is no one else in his world but her.

It’s very dangerous.

His lips skim over her hipbone, his tongue slipping out to trace the contour of it. He presses a kiss to her thigh, then moves away.

“We’ll need another condom then,” he comments when she lifts her head. She watches as he grabs the pharmacy bag and pulls out… “Lube?” he questions, and she closes her eyes.

“I… it was in case I needed it,” she admits. “I usually did.”

He snorts and drops it back in the bag, then takes the condom box out again to grab another one.

“Given what you’ve told me, I’m not surprised,” he says, returning to the bed. He sets the condom on it, leans down and kisses her again, lazily dragging his finger through her folds. “It’s definitely not an issue tonight,” he murmurs, illustrating his point by sliding what feels like three fingers into her.

“Ohhh…” she groans, arching under him. “That could be because you’re sexy as fuck, too,” she breathily says, tilting her head back as he kisses down her neck.

“Thank you,” he replies.

Then he withdraws his fingers and her mewl of disappointment is very nearly embarrassing, but he simply chuckles and licks her moisture from his fingers. He leans down and takes a few moments to lavish attention on her breasts, his mouth and hands working in tandem to drive her nearly mindless with want.

Her head is starting to spin again. She’s never felt desire like this before. He seems to know exactly how to make her body sing. He’s a virtuoso, and she is his instrument.

Gendry draws back again, and Arya opens her eyes to see him looming large over her, naked and muscular and just beautiful, his cock standing proudly in front of him. He shifts, his eyes never leaving hers, moving his knees to the outside of her legs.

“Over you go,” he says, reaching down and flipping her over. His hands skim her sides, down to her hips, where he pulls upward, drawing her up onto her knees.

She gathers the pillows in her arms, propping herself up on them under her chin. She gasps when she feels his rough palms on the rounded globes of her ass, making a wide circle, then squeezing them.

“Nice,” he whispers, then leans down and kisses her right cheek.

“Did you just kiss my arse?” she asks, intrigued and amused.

“I did, and I’m going to do it again,” he answers, bending to kiss the left. He lightly bites it, too, and she squeaks. When his fingers slide against her wetness again, she moans. He strokes her a few times, circling her clit a few times in an almost leisurely fashion, just enough to make her a little crazy.

Then he disappears again, and she hears him ripping open the condom.

When he returns, she feels his large body behind her, leaning over her, engulfing her. “Ready?” he asks in her ear, his lips brushing against her sensitive skin.

“Yeah,” she shakily breathes.

“Good,” he declares, kissing the back of her neck before drawing up again.

Arya closes her eyes, surrendering to the sensations caused by actions she can’t see. His hands on her ass again, thumbs gently opening her up, one briefly slipping inside before withdrawing to slowly guide his cock into her.

She gasps, then sighs, instinctively pushing back against him.

“Mmm, yes,” he grunts his approval, his fingers digging into her firm but pliant flesh.

“Gods,” she lightly exclaims when he pulls back and pushes forward again, going deeper this time. “ _Fuck_.”

“You’re so good,” he whispers, thrusting again, and again, slowly picking up his pace. She moves with him like she was born to it, picking up his rhythm and pushing back against him in perfect time. “So good, yeah…”

“Oh,” she grunts, merely moving on instinct. The new position and angle have him hitting places inside her that she has never felt before. Her body seems to know what to do, and she’s not sure if it truly is some sort of base instinct or if he has drawn it out of her.

She feels him lean forward a bit as one hand lets go of her hip to slide down her thigh, then back up and around. Without losing his rhythm, his fingers find her clit and begin rubbing soft circles over it.

Arya moans and clutches the pillows under her head like her life depends on it, giving over to the bliss he is causing in her. The way he is bent over her while thrusting his hips and working her over with his fingers all at once makes him almost seem super-human, and she feels herself quickly approaching the brink of pleasure.

“Come on, come for me,” he says in a low growl as his other hand slides up to find and caress a breast.

She can’t even think about the insane level of core strength he must have to be able to achieve what he is currently doing. She is only aware of being completely surrounded by him, of his strong arms around her, supporting her, of his fingers and the sinfully delicious things they are doing. She can feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck and it makes her shudder under him. Then he moves his fingers _just right_ as he slams his cock into her with the perfect amount of force.

“Geh…” Arya can only manage half of his name as she shatters around him, her back arching as she fruitlessly tries to escape the exquisite torture of his fingers.

He grunts something unintelligible, moves his hands back up to her hips, and begins really thrusting in earnest now, slamming into her with such force that all she can do is hang on to her pillow and pant.

It’s the perfect culmination to the single most decadent evening she’s ever had in her life, and she never wants it to end.

But end it must, with another groan from Gendry that sounds like sex itself as he digs his fingers into her hips, buried deep inside her as his cock throbs its release.

A few moments later, he slumps over her, exhaling heavily. He feathers kisses her between her shoulder blades and down her spine with a tenderness that almost makes her want to cry, then slides out of her so gently that it’s hard to believe that this is the same man who was just pounding her into the mattress a minute ago.

He flops down onto the bed, appearing exhausted. When Arya turns onto her side to face him again, he is just taking care of the condom.

She simply looks at him, not watching what he is doing but watching _him_. When she told him earlier that he was pretty, it really didn’t do him justice. He is a beautiful man, and she has a feeling that it isn’t just surface beauty.

Part of her wants to find out if she’s right. Another part of her is scared shitless.

He catches her watching him and gives her a small, shy smile that makes her want to kiss him again and cuddle against his side and never let go.

She keeps that impulse at bay, folding it up and tucking it into a pocket in the back of her mind for later. Much later.

“Was… was that what you wanted?” he asks, looking like he is honestly concerned she enjoyed herself. “I got a little rough at the end there, I’m s—”

“It was amazing,” she quietly interrupts before he can apologize. “I… I liked the rough. I liked the whole thing. A lot.”

He smiles again, and all she can think is that he needs to stop doing that. “Good. I’m glad. Because it was bloody mind-blowing for me.”

She can only nod, feeling color rise to her cheeks. “Me too,” she agrees. “Thank you,” she softly adds. “That was… just what I needed.”

“My pleasure,” he replies. He looks at her, then looks away, like he’s not quite sure what to do now.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom, and then I’m going to sleep. You can stay for a bit if you like, but it would probably be for the best if you aren’t here come morning,” she says. She leans over and kisses him once more, then slips out of the bed.

When she returns, he’s still there, setting his phone on the bedside table. “I’ve set an alarm in case I fall asleep. It won’t be loud, I promise. I’m not a heavy sleeper.”

She rolls onto her side, her back to him. “I sleep like the dead, so I’m not concerned,” she says. After a minute, she turns her head and looks back at him. “You gonna spoon me or what?”

“Oh,” he dumbly exclaims, turning to curl up behind her. “I didn’t realize—”

“Shh,” she hushes him. “Just hold me and be quiet.”

“I can do that,” he whispers, then kisses her shoulder, wrapping his arm around her.

A minute later, she breaks the silence. “You can ask me three questions. If you want.”

He thinks a moment, wondering if asking her name is allowed. “How old are you?” he settles on.

“Twenty-eight,” she answers.

“I’m 32,” he volunteers, and feels her slight nod. “How long were you married?”

“Almost three years. I was going to give it five before I gave up and divorced him. I promised my mother I would try... before she died.” Her voice is small. It was more information than he asked for, and she feels him give her a slight squeeze that somehow feels very understanding and reassuring.

He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, then closes it. He exhales heavily and asks, “How did he die?”

“Brain aneurysm while he was at work. Just dropped dead.” Her voice is flat. “I wish I felt some sort of sadness over it, I really do. But I don’t. But I’m not happy either, not really. I feel… nothing at all about it. If you think that makes me a monster, well… you won’t have to deal with me after tonight.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster. Not at all,” he answers, kissing the top of her head.

His voice is so soft and his actions so tender, she can’t help but say, “Arya. My name is Arya.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Arya.”

She closes her eyes, trying to ignore how her name sounded on his lips makes her feel.

xXx

Gendry does drift off to sleep for a bit, but wakes around one, two hours before his alarm is set. She has turned over to face him in her sleep, still nestled in his arms. He is loath to leave, but he will respect her wishes.

Honestly, he finds he likes this fiery little widow very much and would love to see her again (and again). But sometimes things are just what they are, and at least he has this night to treasure. He kisses the top of her head, then carefully extracts himself from the bed, tucking the blankets around her.

She doesn’t stir.

He takes another moment to study her, this mystery girl, his Arya. She looks so much softer in slumber. She is equally beautiful, but the total relaxation of sleep takes away the air of danger and unpredictability she seems to carry.

As he turns away to find his clothes, he reasons he must be a crazy person to find those qualities so attractive and compelling. Sexy.

Just before he leaves, inspiration strikes, and he grabs the pen off of the desk, then digs into his wallet.

xXx

Arya picks up the card. It says _Waters Weaponry_ on the front, over a photo of a gorgeous broadsword. She takes a moment to appreciate the fine craftsmanship and attention to detail, even whispering, “Nice,” in appreciation. Then she flips the card over.

_If you make a list, I’ll be happy to help you check everything off of it. Call me if you’re ever in KL again. -Gendry._

xXx

What Arya neglected to tell Gendry was that the business for which she was in town was the business of renting herself a flat in King’s Landing. She also neglected to tell him that she was relocating there for the foreseeable future because she is finally free to do what she wants with her life now that she’s no longer tied to – trapped by – the Freys.

So when she is finally settled in, sitting comfortably on her lovely new sofa with its super soft, buttery leather upholstery, she takes Gendry Waters’ business card in hand, studying it for what feels like the thousandth time in the month she’s had it. She’s even contemplating driving past the address, just to see what his place of business looked like.

_He was good. Really good. And it seemed like he actually cared. He was very sweet. And sexy as fuck._

She flips it over and looks at his tidy handwriting on the back, idly wishing her handwriting was that neat.

_What have I got to lose? If he turns out to be a creep, I’ll just kick his ass._

She bites her lower lip, picks up her cell, and punches in the number.

He finally answers just as she was about to give up.

“Waters Weaponry, this is Gendry,” he greets, sounding slightly out of breath.

“I made that list,” she says, sounding braver than she feels.

She is met with silence for a solid five seconds. She can hear faint noises in the background, so she knows the call hasn’t disconnected. “It’s you,” he whispers. “Arya. I… I’d recognize that voice anywhere.”

“It’s me,” she confirms. “Are you… I mean, did you really mean what you wrote on your card?”

“Absolutely,” he immediately answers. “Can I at least take you to dinner first this time?” He sounds like a green, over-eager boy and he cannot find it in him to care because he is simply too busy being overjoyed that she actually called.

She smiles. He sounds so excited and earnest she can’t help herself. She’s a little excited, too, if the butterflies in her stomach are anything to go by. “I’d love that,” she answers.

“Seven o’clock? Are you at the same hotel?”

“I’ll text you the address.”

“Okay. See you at seven then,” he says.

“Okay,” she echoes.

“Wait!” he suddenly says, a little too loudly. “Sorry. Will you at least tell me which of Westeros’ Great Houses I will have the honor of dining with tonight? I know it’s not Lannister.”

Her grin widens. _He remembers details._ “It’s Stark.”

“I fucking knew it!” he triumphantly crows, and she laughs. “Sorry,” he apologizes, laughing a little too. “I… I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Arya Stark,” he says, and his voice is so tender the butterflies nearly fly out of her chest.

“See you at seven,” she says, then hangs up the phone while she still has the willpower to do so.

She doesn’t think she’ll stop smiling for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a smut one-shot I had actually been working on for MONTHS. When I realized it fit this prompt, it spurred me along to finally finish it.


End file.
